


When We Drive

by AceEmerson



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: But its only a fix-it when stan lives, Confessions, First Kiss, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Stan lives even though he's not in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24656536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceEmerson/pseuds/AceEmerson
Summary: It's been three months since Eddie almost died, left his wife, and moved in with Richie. He's been silently pining ever since, but an afternoon car ride through the LA streets gives Eddie the confidence to be as brave as Richie says he is.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 182





	When We Drive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pandon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandon/gifts).



> _I just need you to be always a friend  
>  As the sun sets over Dakotas  
> Underneath a crimson ocean of sky  
> Know I'll always want you by my side_   
>  _When we drive_
> 
> Title and lyrics from When We Drive by Death Cab For Cutie

It started with a car ride. Something as simple as that. With the windows down and the music playing loud. With Richie with one hand on the steering wheel and one arm out the driver’s side window. With Eddie not minding the noise all that much even as Richie thumped a beat on the side of the car, a metallic reverb in the air that was nearly drowned out by the music and the man’s voice. They were cruising down some semi-familiar street, Richie knowing LA like the back of his hand while Eddie was still adjusting to the lay of the land. Richie seemed so bright. His voice bright, his eyes bright, his soul bright.

Eddie had just stared. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. Staring, looking, gazing. Spending time just watching Richie. Ever since he moved into Richie’s spacious apartment 3 months ago, his eyes have been drawn to the guy. His whole being has been drawn to him. A 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, 2,000 sq ft apartment and yet somehow they’re always in each other's space. Eddie had asked him, sometime in the process of moving in, why he had such a big place for just him. Richie had shrugged and looked small for a moment before stating simply that he thought if there were more things around him, more space, more items, more personal touches, he wouldn’t feel so alone. It had been a surprising moment of weakness, but as soon as it had come, it had been replaced with a bright smile from Richie and a stupid joke. Eddie doesn’t remember the joke anymore, but he remembers the feeling in his chest.

The last three months have been a mountain range in Eddie’s life. Ups and downs, peaks and valleys. Lush green trees and snow-covered ridges. But even the lowest, coldest days with Richie have been better than even the best days without him. Back in Derry, once he had gotten Richie back in his life, back in his memories, there had been no way he was going back to a life without him. Maybe it had been too rash to call his wife from the hospital bed he had awoken in, telling her he didn’t want a life with her anymore, but he hasn’t regretted the choice yet. He’d rather spend his life pining silently with Richie the only victim in his viewfinder than live in a loveless marriage without laughter, without matching tea and coffee cups, without quiet evenings and loud mornings, without movie nights and too much popcorn, without big glasses and stand up comedy, without the big dumb idiot of his best friend by his side. Without car rides down LA streets, nostalgic 90s rock on the radio, and late spring wind filling the car.

His return to Derry had started with a car ride too. One filled with yelling and anger and a rush of memories that had led him into a wreck. That had been the start of something that had changed his life and even almost ended it, so it’s only fitting that this,  _ tonight,  _ had started with a car ride too.

They’re on the couch now, Richie with his long legs stretching out, Eddie with one arm leaning on the back of the couch, torso turned towards his companion. Richie is talking like he always does, about everything and nothing, always cracking jokes and trying to make others laugh. Eddie is staring like he always does, hopeless and wanting. But something feels different now. Maybe it’s because of the way Richie looked earlier, driving without a care in the world, singing loudly and out of tune as the pale light of the setting sun cast an array of oranges and pinks across his skin, bathing him in a light that made him look ethereal. Or maybe it’s because of the fact that the only reason they had gone for a drive was because Eddie was feeling solemn over the fact that it would still be a few more weeks before he was allowed to return to jogging daily, still recovering from his near-fatal injuries, and Richie had decided he would drop all his plans just to drive his friend around town to try to ease his mind. Or maybe it’s the memory of that day in New York what feels like a lifetime ago when he had nearly totalled his rented escalade, when he was trapped and scared and weak, before he had found the bravery to protect his friends and leave his wife. He was brave that day in the sewers, when he had saved Richie from the deadlights, and he wants to be brave again.

_ It’s okay if he doesn’t feel the same,  _ he tells himself,  _ it’ll be okay. _

His inner voice has a familiar tone of intensity. It’s that same intent that he heard from himself that day below neibolt street, telling him “this kills monsters if you believe it does” repeatedly until he found the courage to take action. That’s what he needs right now: courage to take action.

He reaches out a hand tentatively and rests it on Richie’s leg. It’s just a light touch, but it’s enough to make Richie cut off his sentence mid-word. They’ve been touching a lot since Eddie moved in. Thighs brushing, playful little shoves, feet in each other’s faces, even the occasional sharing of a bed on nights when things feel particularly rough for one of them. Touch isn’t foreign to them, but a sudden unprovoked hand on a thigh isn’t exactly commonplace.

“Hey, Rich?” Eddie says, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice.

Richie’s gaze drags slowly away from where it had fallen to Eddie’s hand on his thigh, up to meet Eddie’s eyes. There’s hesitance and confusion there. But there’s also something else, something vulnerable. He wants to say that it’s hope he sees in Richie’s eyes, but he doesn’t know if he’s just projecting his own feelings. His heart pounds in his chest, the gravity of what he’s just done, the step he’s taken, weighing on him. But he can’t go back. If anything, his racing heart proves that to him. His heart beats because of Richie. If it weren’t for Richie he would be dead. If Richie hadn’t carried him out of neibolt, hadn’t brought him to the hospital, hadn’t been there every step of the way through his recovery, Eddie doesn’t know if his heart would be beating at all.

“Yeah, Eds?” Richie asks, eyes open and waiting. Searching.

When he’s ranting and raving, mouth working overtime as his hands go wild, words come so easy. Half the time he doesn’t even know what he’s saying until it’s out of his mouth. But now, he can’t find the words to say that can completely explain the way he feels. He must be quiet for far too long because he’s still searching for what to say when Richie speaks up again.

“What the hell, dude? Are you gonna say something or are you just gonna stare at me with those doe eyes?” Richie asks, teasing voice tinged with concern, “you’re freaking me out, dude!”

“Hey, fuck you, give me a minute! Not all of us just spew trash from our mouths whenever we talk,” Eddie responds, teeth gritting and eyes rolling, but still pointedly not removing his hand from Richie’s thigh.

“Then why’d you ‘hey’ me! If you wanted my attention you gotta actually  _ say _ something,” Richie responds, apparently not even bothering to try to fight the smile that creeps onto his face as he yells, “don’t just sit there and-”

And Eddie can’t help it. He can’t fight it. He can’t stop himself.

With his free hand he reaches up for Richie’s face, pulling him in by his jaw and surging forward to press their lips together.

For a moment, the world feels suspended. Like there’s nothing moving, nothing changing, no progress of time. Just Richie’s lips on his. Finally finally finally. The feeling Eddie has been waiting his whole life for, even when he didn’t know he was.

And then everything rushes back up to speed. Eddie is kissing Richie. Richie is kissing him back. It’s perfect. It’s everything. It’s maybe a little messy and a little clumsy, he keeps bumping into Richie’s big glasses, and they’re kind of out of rhythm, but it’s perfect. Richie’s face under his palm, their lips eager and searching. Eddie has never felt a kiss like this, one that makes his whole body feel alight with feeling, a buzzing of happiness traveling through his veins.

He slides the hand on Richie’s jaw back and up, running his fingers through the man’s hair. It’s soft, and it feels so good under his touch. He tangles his fingers in those curls, as he tangles himself deeper into Richie.

The feeling of hands on his face pulls him in, holding him close and framing his face. Richie’s hands are rough and big, solid and grounding. Richie’s lips are surprisingly soft. It’s a feeling he could get used to.

When the need for air becomes too much, they break apart, but just barely. Their noses still brush and they breathe each other’s air, catching their breaths as their hearts run a desperate race in their chests. The sound of laughter reaches Eddie’s ears and makes him smile, makes his heart flutter with happiness. He feels like a kid again. Short shorts and fanny packs. Riding bikes in the middle of the street and jumping into the local quarry. Throwing elbows during Street Fighter and yelling about how unsanitary sharing ice cream is. He feels like a young boy pining after his best friend, the same friend he’s been yearning for his whole life.

He opens his eyes and there’s Richie smiling at him, eyes bright as he laughs. Eddie wants to live in this moment forever.

“Wow, Kaspbrak kisses are even better than I remember. Sorry Sonia, I think Eddie has you beat,” Richie jokes, his smile morphing into a smirk as he winks down at Eddie.

The groan that comes from Eddie’s throat is pure instinct. He would smack the guy on the shoulder if he had a free hand, but he’s not willing to give up either of the places they’re touching right now. He’s scared if they stop touching now, he won’t get another chance to touch Richie like this. This moment, right now, he doesn’t want to let it go.

“Can we have  _ one  _ serious moment without you making a stupid joke, dickwad?” Eddie snaps back, but there’s absolutely no malice in his voice.

This. This is them. It’s their love language. It’s how they flirt. It’s Eddie and Richie and Richie and Eddie.

“No,” Richie responds simply, grinning with eyes that are so soft and adoring, something so fond and endearing shining there behind his glasses.

Eddie loves him. He really does. With his whole heart, his whole being. Eddie loves his stupid jokes and his shit-eating grins. Loves his heart and his attitude. Loves everything about him.

When Eddie leans forward to connect them in a kiss once again, he can feel Richie’s smile against his lips. It makes his heart skip a beat. But when Richie’s hands tilt Eddie’s face up and the guy uses the angle to deepen the kiss, Eddie’s heart jumps. He feels Richie’s tongue run along the seam of his mouth, and he parts his lips to let the taller man turn up the heat. Eddie gives back as good as he gets, and Richie follows his lead eagerly.

One of Richie’s hands leaves his face, sliding down to rest on Eddie’s waist, pulling him slightly closer. It feels so good, having Richie’s hand on him, and Eddie can’t help the way his fingers tighten in Richie’s hair. The noise that falls from Richie’s lips is needy and heavy, lighting a fire in Eddie’s veins as he swallows down that sound with kisses. He makes a happy little moan as he slides the hand on Richie’s thigh up higher.

He wants. He wants so much that it’s threatening to consume him. He’s never wanted anyone this much. He always thought sex wasn’t for him. But that was before he remembered Richie and his big smile, broad shoulders, and strong hands. He’s never been with a guy, but now he knows he’ll never go back to women. Actually, he doubts he’ll ever go back to anyone who isn’t Richie Tozier.

Richie moans into Eddie’s mouth, loud and needy, body leaning into Eddie’s touch. God it’s so hot, having a hungry Richie under his touch. All of a sudden, they’re not close enough. He feels impatient, full of a need that begs to be satisfied. His hand moves from thigh to crotch, palming Richie through his jeans and earning a desperate moan from the man. Richie moaning is probably the hottest sound Eddie has ever heard, and he needs more of it. He gets more when he rubs a bit and Richie’s hips thrust up into Eddie’s touch. It’s a relief to feel that Richie’s as hard as he is. A bit forlorn, he untangles his fingers from Richie’s hair and moves his hand to the man’s lap. Both hands go for the front of Richie’s jeans, starting to unbutton them but not getting far before Richie is pulling away.

“Woah woah woah,” Richie rushes out, voice breathless and face red as his hands drop to rest on Eddie’s wrists, “hold on Eds, hold on. I’m…”

And just like that, the gravity of everything comes crashing down. Maybe he’s pushing too far, maybe he’s getting too eager. It’s clear that Richie was into the kisses but more than that? Maybe he’s too ambitious.

“Shit, sorry Richie, I assumed you-” Eddie explains, pulling his hands away and sitting back, feeling heat under his collar from the last few minutes mixed with a haze of embarrassment, “fuck, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Oh shut up, I was just moaning and grinding against you, Eds. You were right to assume,” Richie responds with a grin, leaning closer and placing his hands on Eddie’s hips.

Touching is nice. They should always be touching.

“Oh?” Eddie responds, a sly smile creeping across his face as his hands move to rest over Richie’s before sliding slowly up the other man’s arms.

The way Richie’s eyes darken instantly, pupils dilating as Eddie touches him, is intoxicating. Oh Eddie could get used to this.

“Yeah but um… Look dude I- fuck,” Richie responds, words aparently escaping him as he cuts himself off with a huff of breath.

“You fuck? Richie you’ve been telling the world that for years. It’s not exactly news to me,” Eddie responds, quirking an eyebrow easily at his friend.

He’s expecting Richie to crack a joke. Expecting him to laugh. Expecting Sonia Kaspbrak to be brought up. What he’s not expecting is for Richie to look even more frustrated.

“No, see, that’s the problem! I don’t fuck!” Richie explains, eyes flitting away as his fingers flex on Eddie’s hips, “I’ve never uh.... You know.”

Richie punctuates his last two words by pulling one hand away from Eddie in order to make a jerk-off motion in the air between them. And with that, it clicks. Richie’s never had sex with a guy. It’s surprising, but definitely not a deal breaker. What, does Richie think that Eddie is some sort of gay sex expert? Some crazy elitist when it comes to having sex with guys?

“You’ve never had sex with a guy? Jesus Trashmouth, all that big gay talk is just for show, huh? Saying you’ll suck people’s dad’s dicks?” Eddie responds, voice halfway to his normal Kaspbrak rant voice, hands pulling away from Richie in order to gesture with his words, “well I doubt this comes as a surprise but I’m not a gay sex afficienado. I’ve never had sex with a guy either so really if you’re-”

“No not that!,” Richie cuts him off, voice pitching slightly higher with frustration as his face flushes brighter with some sort of emotion, “I’m- God are you really gonna make me fucking say it?”

“Well considering I have no idea what you’re talking about then yeah, asshole! I am gonna make you say it!” Eddie rants, starting to lose patience with the guy in front of him.

He’s not a fucking mind reader, what the fuck! Is he just supposed to know what Richie’s thinking at all times? Richie makes an irritated noise and Eddie just frowns, becoming more and more irked by the minute.

“I’ve never had sex at all, okay!” Richie finally blurts out, pointedly looking anywhere but at Eddie, grip tightening on the guy’s hips.

Eddie is stunned into silence for a minute. Richie is loud, he talks big, and of course no one believes all of the nonsense that comes out of his mouth. Exaggeration and fake stories, sexual jokes about people like Eddie’s mom, that’s part of Richie’s humor. So the fact that it’s taking Eddie a minute to process the idea of Richie being a virgin isn’t because of Richie’s big talk. It’s because of who Richie is. He’s a great friend with a big heart and more intelligence than people give him credit for. And he’s hot. 6 foot whatever, broad shoulders, a sharp jaw, bright eyes, and a laugh that can brighten a whole room. Who wouldn’t want to jump him? So it’s really hard for Eddie to wrap his head around the fact that no one has ever slept with Richie.

“Alright, go ahead and laugh. I probably deserve it with how much I talk about sleeping with your mom and shit,” Richie says into the silence between them, eyes still looking everywhere but at Eddie, “I’m a 40-year old virgin, cue the jokes, laugh it up.”

It  _ is _ tempting to rib Richie a little. Teasing and yelling is how they flirt, it’s been their thing since they were kids. But there’s something about this Richie: soft and vulnerable, with flighty unsure eyes, that makes Eddie not feel right making fun of him.

“Well I’m obviously not laughing, idiot,” Eddie says instead, Richie’s gaze finally locking with his.

There’s hesitance, hopefulness, and a whole lot of vulnerability in Richie’s eyes. Eddie loves him. He loves him when they’re cruising down the street listening to music, and he loves him when they’re making out on the couch, and he loves him every minute of every day. Sexual experience changes absolutely none of it. 

He closes the distance between them slowly, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. Richie kisses back immediately, but neither of them move it past the gentle kiss that Eddie started. It’s nice. Chaste. Familiar. Comfortable.

“I don’t care how many people you’ve had sex with, Rich. If you wanna have sex I’m happy to figure out this gay sex thing with you. And if you don’t wanna have sex, we can just put on a movie and pop some popcorn,” Eddie mumbles against Richie’s lips, heart racing slightly with sincerity, “as long as you still let me kiss your dumb stupid handsome face.”

Soft moments aren’t normal for them. All of a sudden, Eddie feels as open and exposed as Richie looked only moments ago. Wow kissing was the easy part. It’s being genuine that is gonna take some getting used to.

“You think I’m handsome?” Richie asks, a grin spreading its way across his face.

“Obviously, Trashmouth,” Eddie responds with a roll of his eyes, cracking a smile at the sound of Richie laughing.

Richie kisses him again, and Eddie realizes that kissing Richie’s smile is going to be his new normal. He’s not complaining.

“Popcorn now,” Richie asks once they break apart, pressing a quick peck to Eddie’s nose, “discovering how to be a couple of horny gays later?”

Eddie rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. Some things will probably never change. And he would never want them to.


End file.
